


The Epiphany of Alexander Luthor

by VZG



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-17
Updated: 2007-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-01 07:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/353469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VZG/pseuds/VZG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The misplaced son of Marquis Luthor will find his purpose in life in the New World, or he will waste away trying. (Written for the Smallville Harlequin Challenge.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Epiphany of Alexander Luthor

## The Epiphany of Alexander Luthor

by VZG

<http://gixi.livejournal.com>

* * *

The first glimpse of land was anything but pleasant for Alexander Luthor. Unlike the other men on board, it did not bring thoughts of food, of women, and of family to his mind. There was no pleasure to be found for him in the colonies, he was sure; it was a punishment, Hell brought to him early courtesy of his father. He had always been aware of the fact that his father viewed him as a disappointment, that he held little, if any, love for his only child. Even so, he had not suspected his father would ever disown him. 

Really, that wasn't entirely true. He had suspected it, time and again, but some part of him kept disobeying him, kept bringing up scandal after scandal, feeling as though he was invincible. He hadn't truly been disowned, either. It was about the same, in his opinion, though: he was sentenced to a life governing a settlement that had been, until recently, governed by a member of his late mother's family. He had heard it was a pathetic town even by the standards of other settlements, rife with crime and unable to even keep track of its own people. Unfortunately, the crime present was not of any interest to him; it mostly concerned money, which he already had a lot of, and plays of power among peasants. He was the son of a Marquis, and as such did not need to do much to gain the respect of the simple men and women of the colonies, or so he suspected. He would rise above any provocations of those who challenges his authority. So his father thought so little of him? He was prove he was a better man than his father thought, or was; he had vowed to fix the settlement, called Smallville, and make it prosperous. 

Still, the thought of it brought him no joy. 

He had long since resigned himself to his fate, though, and as he left the bow of the ship to begin preparing for the day-long trip to Smallville, he also began to prepare himself mentally, clearing his mind of distaste for the New World and putting on a mask of regal indifference. 

* * *

His first glimpse of any part of Smallville was a young woman in the woods outside the settlement, crouched in the brush. From the horse beside Alexander's own, William Doty called to her. 

"Ho, there, Lana!" he cried, obviously familiar with her. She peeked up, her wide eyes showing relief as she recognized the faces of the men on horseback. Noting her dark complexion and lack of proper women's wear, Alexander turned a questioning gaze to Doty. 

"A native," Solomon Winslow explained from behind. "Savage. Dr. Reve civilized her. She's helped us to learn the area and protected us from the dangers of the land." 

"What dangers could there be that a girl could save you from, Winslow?" Alexander asked as the men slowed their horses to a stop beside where the native girl crouched. He tried to make it come out less condescendingly than he might have said it to his father, but succeeded only partially. "Are the men such poor shots that they can't keep the wildlife from their land?" 

"You'd be surprised." Doty hopped from his horse, approaching Lana with a confidence that surprised Alexander. "Do they expect us yet?" 

The girl shook her head, silent. She stood when Doty turned, looking at the men curiously. 

"Walk back with us," Doty offered. "I'm sure Dr. Reve has missed you today." 

"I was gathering herbs," she explained, her voice thick with a strange accent. She crouched down again to retrieve a basket, which was, indeed, filled with plants, some of which Alexander could not name. "I will go back with you." 

"Good girl," Doty said, urging his horse forward. Frowning, Alexander pushed his horse ahead, barely conscious of the way his mind would not let him stay behind the other man. Lana walked by his horse's side, her steps quick and sure on the uneven ground. 

"So, tell me," Alexander began as they made their way down the path, "what is it exactly that she does in Smallville?" 

"Quite a bit, actually." Doty smiled over at the girl, who blushed but did not bow her head. Curious. "She helps Dr. Reve tend to his patients, acting as a midwife and nurse when he can't himself. When the men can't find anything to hunt, she always leads them to spots of land with plenty. She's attracted the eye of many men in the village, too; she'll be a wife and mother soon, if Dr. Reve allows it." 

From the corner of his eye, Alexander noticed her blush again, but a small smile crossed her lips as well. That was somewhat more appropriate. "Fascinating," Alexander said, only meaning it somewhat, "but what I meant to ask was what it was, specifically, that she protects you from. Not demons and spirits, I hope." 

"No, nothing like that," Doty scoffed, but then fell silent for a moment. His face creased with worry in a way that immediately grabbed Alexander's attention. "There are... things in the forests. They look like people, and some mingle with those of Smallville, but they are more at home with the savages. They aren't of their race, either. It's been said that they dabble in witchcraft, but some lived among us for years, better men and children of the Church than our own. They exhibit strange abilities many times they are strong, but they've been known to do anything from passing through walls to rising from the dead. They only began to make themselves known after we found strange rocks a short way from the town, which is when..." 

"Go on," Alexander prompted, thirsting for more information, ludicrous as it all sounded. 

Doty let out a long breath, looking across the tail of Alexander's horse at Lana. "Which is when the Man of Iron appeared." 

"The Man of Iron," Alexander repeated, disappointed. It sounded less spectacular than he'd hoped. 

"Naman," Lana supplied, speaking directly to him for the first time. "He is a story among my people." 

"A legend," Doty helped, though Alexander wasn't sure whether it was to correct her vocabulary or prompt a better understanding for him. "They say he fell from the stars. He's why Lana came to us, and he seems to be what the man-creatures rally behind. We've lost women to him, either when they begin to believe the savages' stories or when they fall in love with him, which seems to lead to their death in almost every circumstance. One of our own tried to tame him as a child, but he is incredibly strong and faster than any other. The Kent couple they couldn't have their own. They even gave him a name Clark but he didn't accept it, and he ran from them after only a short time. They followed him, and I haven't seen them since Lana arrived." 

"They are in good health," she assured them. 

The story was suddenly more pleasing to Alexander. His father hadn't even heard of it, and yet the Man of Iron Naman caused more of a stir in the settlement than he had himself as a Marquis's son. 

He would take great pleasure in dealing with Naman himself. 

* * *

Days later, Alexander found himself with a problem. It wasn't that he hadn't had complaints from the people of Smallville before that moment in fact, they seemed to each have a new problem every day, which they expected he would be able to fix, and more often than not the problems related to the man-creatures Doty had told him about. They claimed they did, anyway, but Alexander Governor Luthor to the people could find no evidence of anything other than nature or neighbor causing harm in any situation yet, and believed that they had accustomed themselves so much to their myths that they blamed everything on the day they had found the rocks. 

But that day his problem was a different matter. There were no missing crops amongst the farmers or tampered goods and livestock among the others. No, it was a personal problem. 

There was money missing from his home. 

Of course, it was a small amount compared to the whole that he had, but no instance of theft sat well with Alexander Luthor. What was his was his, no matter how privileged and undeserving others saw him, and he was especially irked by the manner in which it had been stolen. If he hadn't had a keen eye for his own possessions, he would never have noticed, and he suspected the previous governor had perhaps never noticed his own coins being stolen. The amount was so small in comparison to the whole stored beside his bed that a casual observer could never have seen a difference, as the coins nearest to the edge had not been touched and the center had been smoothed out. Furthermore, the theft had happened in his sleep, and he could not bear the thought that anyone would think they could truly get away with taking from a Luthor as he slept in his own bed. 

He puzzled over it for hours, inspect the area closely for any clue as to who might have done it, but they had dropped nothing, left no obvious trace behind. They had come in with clean boots or perhaps with bare feet and seemed to have touched nothing but the gold. He hadn't thought most of the residents of Smallville would think to be so careful. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a banging at his door. Unfortunately, all the people of the settlement knew it well enough to know the location of every other other family, and Alexander had even moved into the previous governor's home. He almost swore the bedsheets were still warm, but he had been told the man had died months ago from an unidentified illness... 

"Governor!" He could tell as he reached the door that the voice beyond was that of the native girl, her accent distinguishing her immediately. He opened the door to find her shaking, her large, frightened eyes pleading with him. "The doctor needs help!" 

He didn't ask what help he needed; he suspected the girl didn't have the words to say it easily, and the dread on her face was enough to spur him into action. It wasn't a long way to the doctor's home. 

"You wouldn't take me, but now you cavort with a savage girl?" The voice inside was loud, and Alexander was surprised the neighbors had not risen. It was possible, though, that they were too frightened to come to the man's aid, or perhaps out elsewhere. Winslow and his young wife lived within range to hear it, but he hunted often and she was a meek woman, unmotivated to even speak on most occasions. 

The door was not barricaded, and Lana opened it, falling behind it in fear and giving him a prime view of the situation. There was Dr. Reve, a relatively young but very intelligent and strong man, pushed against a wall with a hand at his throat. Strangely, the hand, as well as the body it was attached to, seemed to be that of the girl that was hiding behind the door at that moment. 

"Lana?" He asked, his curiosity driving him in towards the scene. "I could have sworn..." 

"It's not her," Dr. Reve choked out, looking much less frightened than Alexander thought reasonable in the situation. It was not that he thought she might overpower him, though he knew she wasn't physically weak, but that she had in her hand a dagger, which she pointed at his gut. "Her name is Tina Greer." 

It was no time to question it, and he leapt forward, wrenching the dagger from her grip before she had a chance to react. He had it to her throat, the edge of the blade pressed to her skin, when he noticed a gleam coming from a table in the corner. There, beneath a leatherbound book, was a small pile of gold coins. His eyes shifted slowly from the gleam to Dr. Reve, who seemed somehow unable to wrest himself from the imitator's hold. He didn't look guilty, though he seemed to know what Alexander had figured out. 

"I needed it just a little," he said, gasping for air. Alexander decided further explanation would wait until he could breathe properly again. 

"You were supposed to take me!" The Greer girl had not so much as looked in Alexander's direction, her eyes focused solely on her prey. "Me!" 

"You can keep it in exchange for Lana's employment," Alexander said quickly, the words barely a breath. The doctor hardly managed the nod before attention was refocused on the girl. "Miss Greer, whatever problem you have with the doctor can be solved with my help." 

"No one can help him," she cried, her fingers tightening on his throat. Alexander pressed the blade just a little harder, just enough for the skin to break. "He hasn't helped anyone in his life, and now he's going to get his comeuppance. And I will be the one to get Lana." 

"Kill her!" the doctor begged, his voice barely making it past his lips. Alexander hesitated. He had only killed small game before never a fellow person. He had never even laid a hand on a woman that wasn't with sexual intent. He wasn't sure he was capable. 

He didn't need to be. Just as quick as he himself had taken hold of the dagger it was in the doctor's hand and then in her neck. She froze for just a second and then went lax, her body falling to the floor and changing, her appearance shifting from that of the native girl to one of a plainer girl, looking much more like a member of their own community. 

"She was mad one of them," the doctor panted, placing the dagger on the table beside the coins, his other hand rubbing his neck. "She begged me to take her in, to marry her, when her mother died, and when she found out Lana was living in my home, she went mad. She even tried to impersonate me and bring Lana into my bed. She was so wrought with her lunacy I was going to put her out of her misery, but she was strangely strong, and... you saw her." 

Alexander looked to Lana, who was slowly creeping inside, her eyes fixated on the body at their feet. "She acted as a man would to me." 

He turned back to the doctor. "Lana will come with me tonight." 

The doctor's eyes went wide, and then narrowed, almost as hard as those of the Maquis Luthor. Alexander was well-trained against such stares. "I needed it. I would have paid you back. A troublesome girl in town the Lane girl was threatening to reveal things to the townsfolk." 

Alexander was unfazed. "What things?" 

"I haven't burned all the bodies of these people the ones like Miss Greer though I claimed to. I was trying to figure out how to identify them, but the people, they wouldn't understand, they would claim I was contaminating Smallville" 

Uninterested in hearing more lies, Alexander took the dagger from the table, turning away. "Then you may keep the money and pay her to be your secret-keeping whore. Lana comes with me." 

"If I could only" 

"Lana comes with me or I will personally tell the townsfolk," Alexander clarified, his voice crisp with finality. Lana didn't even blink, but fell easily in step behind him. He wasn't sure if she had taken a liking to him or if she was unhappy in the doctor's keeping. Perhaps she understood that many of the people of Smallville would view her as little more than a commodity unless they were interested in her beauty. Doty alone seemed to view her otherwise, treating her as a father would his daughter at times... but maybe he was only as good as hiding how he felt as Alexander was. Maybe a little less so. Alexander was very good at it, after all. 

* * *

"Your hair is strange," Lana commented, peering at him rather intently for the distance she kept. She had been making comments like that for two days, since she had come to live in the house of the governor. If it was not the scar on his lip or the color of his clothing, it was the manner in which he spoke or the way he walked about his house. 

Alexander wasn't sure yet what he would do with her. He knew he would need her to show him the area, and suspected she would be far better at it than any of the townspeople. She was also an obvious trophy, helping to establish his authority by acting as a human representation of his prominence in Smallville, completely unavoidable by its people. He considered taking her in as a wife, as well. She was better suited to the role than the wives of many men back at his home, such as Victoria Hardwick, Desiree Atkins, or Helen Bryce. Each had been easier to seduce than the last and more than willing to give up information valuable to their respective spouses. The latter two hadn't even been very good at keeping their affairs from their husbands. 

But Lana was quiet, surefooted, and obedient so far, at least. He wouldn't have to worry about her ruining him, or likely even considering taking another man to bed. She even seemed intelligent and inquisitive though that had the potential to work against both of them. "It's the color of fire and blood. It reminds me of apples, or..." 

Alexander smiled at her briefly before returning to the papers in his hand. His father had written him a letter which might have appeared innocent to anyone who didn't know him personally, but his son could see the threats laced between the words, the mocking tone that hung over the words like a fog. He wanted badly to make his father jealous of him, though he would never admit it to anyone out loud. 

"Fire!" For a moment, Alexander just thought Lana was repeating herself in regards to his curled hair, but he noted a tone in her voice that broke through her accent, something startled. He turned in time to see the flames lick up the walls, devouring a chair in the process. 

"Run! Get help, get water!" Lana was gone quickly, but he immediately regretted his order; alone he could do nothing but watch it burn. He tried, helplessly, to smother the fire with blankets torn off the bed, but they too were alight then, threatening his hands. He dropped the blanket and rushed for the door before he realized that it had somehow also caught fire. He tried to push it open, but it seemed stuck and he recoiled, yelling in pain. He fell back to the center of the room, watching the flames grow in front of him, feeling them at his back. It didn't seem possible that fire could move so fast. 

He heard the cracking before he could tell that a piece of his roof was falling, and he only managed to look up before it fell on him, knocking him to the floor and out of consciousness. 

* * *

When he awoke, Alexander found himself staring into the faces of two women, one belonging to Lana and the other that of a woman he only vaguely recognized. 

"Governor Luthor?" The one who was not Lana was looking into his eyes as though searching for something other than pupils and irises. Lana held his burned hand, to which she was applying a salve. It stung to the touch, but was pleasantly cool. 

"My house?" he asked, trying to sit up to see the damage. The woman looking into his eyes pushed him back down. 

"It's not completely destroyed, but it will need extensive work. You won't be able to sleep there for a while, Governor." 

He laid back against the ground, which was hard and unforgiving on his back. He had to take his mind off it, off the pain in his hand, off the destruction of his home, and off the embarrassment of the whole matter. "I'm sorry. I don't know your name." 

"Lois Lane," the young woman said, keeping her hand on his chest. It annoyed him, but he didn't protest. 

It looked like he wouldn't get much more than that. "How did they manage to stop the fire?" 

"It was Naman," Lana said, not looking up from his hand. "He appeared from the trees and he took you out. He stopped the fire." 

Alexander looked to Lois for confirmation. She nodded. The sound of approaching footsteps made all three turn their heads. 

"It was Dr. Reve, Governor," Doty said, several men behind him murmuring. "He set fire to your home. Winslow saw him when he came back from the forest. We went to look for him and he's tied to a tree, not far from here. We're not sure if he's dead or not." 

"No," Lana replied, shaking her head. "Naman does not kill." 

"Did he burn the Lanes' home, too?" 

"No," Lois answered. "He thought his bribe could would keep me quiet. I would have spoken up in another day or so, though but extra money never hurt." 

He didn't mention that it was really his own money she had taken. It didn't matter anymore. "I want to find Naman," he said suddenly, looking to Lana. 

She looked up, started, opening her mouth as if to protest but without any sound escaping. She looked at Lois, who offered no help. 

"I'd like to find him, too," she admitted, standing up and stepping away from Alexander. He sat up, groaning slightly at the pain shooting through his body. "My cousin is with him. I could go with you I could get her to help us, if we can find the natives." 

"Get my horse," Alexander demanded, and Winslow nodded, heading off before Doty could stop him. 

"But Governor!" Doty insisted, looking almost scandalized. "He's dangerous, and and taking two women into the forest alone? It's unsavory, sir, it's" 

"Would you like to join us, then?" Alexander rose to his feet, brushing dirt off himself as best he could. Doty paled. "I'll ask you not to question my intentions towards these women, Doty. I have to thank the one who saved me, man or otherwise." 

Of course, he hardly intended to thank him. He wanted to know why the creature that had supposedly terrorized the settlement before had chosen to save his life. Depending on the answer, he could then either figure out how to bring Naman into his employment or how to destroy him, but nothing could be done sitting there and waiting. Action was needed. 

"It may take days!" Doty protested weakly, knowing that he had lost. "What are we to do without you while you are gone?" 

"You did without a governor for months," Alexander pointed out, attempting to straighten out his clothing. It wasn't burned much, but it had ripped in places and hung loose on his shoulders. "You can make do again." 

Winslow returned shortly, bringing with him two horses: Alexander's own and one for Lois. He offered to retrieve another for Lana, but she refused. Lois frowned at her ride's saddle and removed it, climbing on bareback. As they began to ride, Alexander heard Winslow murmur, "That's why I wouldn't marry her." 

* * *

"We're heading away from the rocks," Lois noted. 

"Is that strange?" Alexander had trusted Lana, and she had yet to give him any real reason not to, but he could not help but remain suspicious of her potential betrayal. She might truly wish to return to her people, or might begrudge him for taking her from Dr. Reve. There were dozens of reasons anyone in Smallville might betray him at any moment. It was best not to retain complete trust in any one person, no matter how loyal they seemed. 

"A little. I'd always thought they were connected to Naman, and that he would want to stay close to them..." 

"They hurt him," Lana said. She walked in front of them, leading the way into the forest. "When he gets close to them, he falls." 

Alexander made an immediate note to go and investigate the rocks, especially if their venture turned out less than favorable. "Would they kill him?" 

"I do not know," Lana answered, glancing back at him, wary. "He is not dead yet." 

Alexander settled into his thoughts. Even if he could win over the Man of Iron, it would be wise to have access to some means by which to keep him in his place. But if he were to return with Naman, he would need to study the rocks in secret... 

Suddenly Lois's horse stopped, rolling its head restlessly. Alexander halted his horse and Lana went to help her, but it backed away, its eyes wide. Alexander's horse began to paw at the ground, and as he tried to soothe it, it read up. Surprised, he tumbled off, and from his position on the ground he could see what had made the horses so restless. 

The world went black again. 

* * *

When Alexander woke, he wasn't initially sure if he was still alive. The last thing he could remember was the sight of several falling boulders, parts of them seeming to glow strangely green. When he saw the trees around him, and, beneath their branches, several brown faces, some of which stared at him as he stirred, he was certain he was alive. He imagined his afterlife would be a fiery and solitary Hell. 

"How are you feeling?" The voice was soft and gentle, spoken in clear English. Turning his head and blinking a few times to help focus his vision, Alexander saw a group of women at his side, Lana and Lois among them, looking unharmed. 

Well. Perhaps he had made it to Heaven after all. The Lord was very forgiving, then. 

The woman who had spoken had lighter skin than the natives around her, her hair red as his own. She had a look of motherly worry on her face. 

"Where am I?" As he looked around, the answer was fairly obvious. He was in the village of the natives. "How did I get here?" 

"Some of the men brought you here, at Clark's request," the woman replied. 

"Clark? Do you mean Naman?" 

"Some call him that, yes." 

Most of the buildings if it could be said that they even passed for buildings were, in Alexander's opinion, extremely crude, something like what boys might make if left to fend themselves without ever having been properly taught to build. One structure, though, was larger, more properly built, and from it emerged another white woman, her hair blond and short. She and the other woman both wore the same clothing the natives around them did, dress-like garments made of skins that barely covered them, their arms and shoulders showing over the tops. Their feet were bare, like Lana's. 

She walked with purpose to Alexander, sticking her hand out in front of him. "Kal-El wants to see you." 

Alexander looked at her hand curiously, unsure. "Kal-El?" 

Heaving out a breath, she grabbed his hand, pulling him up and back towards the building from which she had come. "Kal-El. Naman. Clark. The Man of Iron. Whatever you want to call him, he wants to see you." 

Alexander was impressed. He didn't know of many men who earned more than one name that weren't powerful. Or drunks, on occasion, but he was sure that wasn't what he would find with Naman. "Why do you call him that?" 

"Because it's what he calls himself," she answered, pulling him past the large skin that served as a door. It seemed to be from a bear. "Martha Kent calls him Clark because he's like a son to her, and he's always treated her like a mother, and before her husband died, he saw him as a father." 

The building was separated into two rooms, and they had to weave their way through a crowd of people sitting in the first, watching them with interest as they passed. 

"The others call him Naman because they believe he's their savior." She stopped just inside the second room, stepping aside to let him through. "And you are their Sageeth." 

Compared to the first, the second room seemed almost bare. There were skins on the floor, crops drying in a corner, and a fire pit in the center, but besides himself and the girl, there was only one other occupant of the room. 

Alexander stopped breathing for a moment at the sight. The man before him, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the fire pit, exuded a feeling of power that made his skin tingle. His skin was light, though not quite as pale as his own, and mostly bare; the loincloth he wore was probably the same size as those the other native men had been wearing in the village, but on his large frame it seemed almost too small. Every muscle was defined, but not so much as to be grotesque, and long black hair fell over his shoulders. Reminding himself to exhale, Alexander made to run a hand through his hair, but paused. 

His hand touched his scalp. No hair. 

Naman wouldn't let him have the time to dwell on it. "Alexander Luthor," he said, as though tasting his name. 

Alexander merely nodded. "Naman." 

"Please, you may call me Kal-El." He smiled broadly, white teeth shining, when he saw the surprise in Alexander's eyes. His English was barely accented at all. "Or Clark, if it makes you more comfortable. I prefer the simpler names. Come, sit." 

Alexander obeyed, only going so far as the fire pit, sitting as far from it as Naman or Kal-El, or Clark was, imitating his posture. 

"Alexander Luthor," he said again, looking thoughtful. "Do you mind if I call you something else?" 

"Sageeth?" 

Clark smiled. "No, not Sageeth." 

"You could call me Luthor," Alexander suggested. It was, unfortunately, a reminder of his father, but nothing could be done to help it. 

Clark frowned. "No... no, not that. Would you mind if I called you just Lex?" 

Alexander was taken aback. "Lex" seemed to make little sense, but so did girls who could change their appearance and glowing rocks falling from the sky. It would do, if he could move on to figuring out more about the Man of Iron. "If you wish, you may." 

"Lex." Clark smiled, and then stared into the fire pit. Alexander sat silent for a moment, jumping when the tinder in the pit was suddenly set aflame. "Why did you come out here, Lex?" 

"To find you," he answered simply, reminding himself to stay calm. He set his hands on his knees, and noted that his left hand the one he had burned at his home had returned to normal. That was for later. "Why did you save me?" 

"Why did you want to find me?" Clark made it clear he was in control of their conversation, acting as though Alexander hadn't asked anything. 

"To thank you." 

Clark raised an eyebrow at him. "Not to control me, or these people?" 

Alexander felt guilt pull at his stomach. He had wanted to, as he wanted, on some level, to control all the people around him; in the man's presence and he was surely a man, and not some creature like Doty had claimed however, he felt all urge to do so slipping away. It was strange. "I wouldn't touch you unless you posed a risk to me or the people I govern." 

Clark studied him for a moment. "I'd like it if you stayed here for a time. I'm sure you understand why." 

He did, but... "They may come to look for me, and for the girls." 

"I can handle your men." 

Alexander knew he could. Clark nodded to the blond woman. "Chloe, please take Lex to stay with my mother." 

* * *

Alexander stared at his palm. In his left hand he held a sharp stone. His burns had healed but how fast? Should they even have healed so completely at all? Taking a deep breath, he drew the sharp edge of the stone against his palm, quickly. He made a small, painted noise, catching the attention of the Kent woman, who had been washing several new animal pelts. 

He had been surprised, initially, that Clark would have him placed with a woman for his stay, but he obviously trusted her to defend herself. She gave off an air similar to Clark's, full of confidence and power. Perhaps it came from acting as his mother for as long as she had. 

"Are you hurt?" she asked, taking his hand before he could protest. Blood smeared across his palm, but when she wiped it away, it seemed that the flow had already stopped. 

"I should heal so quickly," he said. She dropped his hand, going back to her pelts. "Have you ever thought of using those stones?" 

She froze, turning to look at him again. "The stones?" 

"The rocks the ones that fell when Clark appeared. They're the same as the ones that fell on me, aren't they? I think they changed me healed me. You could use them on wounds, and perhaps they would even have a similar effect on plant life you could grow food twice as quickly." 

Martha fixed a serious gaze on him. "Lex, those rocks have never done as much good to us as they have done harm." 

Alexander looked at his hands. "They have for me." 

Her look melted into a different one, more sad. "You've lost your hair." 

"Whether or not you believe it, I value my health over my appearance, Mrs. Kent." He left her standing there, heading toward the nearest stream to wash the blood from his hand. 

* * *

After that first day with Martha Kent, Alexander became more active at night. Although there were curious looks, most of the natives seemed to simply assume that he was restless which, to some extent, he was. The rocks intrigued him more than ever, and he couldn't bring himself to stay away from them. He stole away in the night, bringing back the smallest rocks he could find, keeping those that glowed brightest buried in the corner where he slept. Held to his skin, they didn't seem to accelerate the healing of his wounds anymore than it already was, but when he planted seeds just behind Martha Kent's home, three of the five grew with amazing speed when rocks were placed in the soil or near them. 

Part of him new his experiments would only go unnoticed for a few nights. He was glad to have made it to three, but found himself frustrated still when Chloe discovered him. 

"You have to get rid of this," she demanded, gathering the rocks she could see. There was something panicked in her voice. She didn't know there were others still in the soil. "These rocks are dangerous they hurt us, and they hurt Kal-El..." 

She ran into the forest, and when she returned the rocks were gone. 

"If you don't bear ill will toward us, leave the rocks alone." 

But his curiosity could not let it lie. By the next night he had gathered more, and the plants had begun to bud. He watched with fascination as leaves twitched. The sun was only just rising, but he could just make out the tiny movements, the barest evidence of the rocks' effect. 

"Lex?" 

Clark. 

He scrambled to pick up the rocks, but he didn't have time to uncover what was buried. Clark must have heard his shuffling, because he came around the side of the structure. His footsteps seemed inordinately loud to Alexander, who couldn't determine if that was Clark's doing to make him more aware of his presence and more comfortable or his subconscious amplifying the sound. 

With the rocks in his hands, he looked all around. He had no time to run into the forest and dispose of them as Chloe had, and nowhere to hide them that their glow wouldn't be seen. 

And Clark was there. "Lex?" 

"Clark, don't" 

He didn't have a chance to finish. As soon as Clark was in his sight, he was falling, his body buckling in on itself. Alexander stared in horror, watching as the rocks glowed brighter, the veins in Clark's neck and arms pushing to the surface, echoing their color. Clark panted, his face contorting in pain. His hands clutched at his stomach, and he looked up at Alexander, pleading. 

The Luthor son ran, turning the same way Chloe had the night before. He went blindly, his only goal to get the rocks away from Clark. He had know they would cause him pain he had been told but somehow he had denied it, just to satisfy his curiosity. The pain on the other man's face had been so severe, though he would never deny it again. 

He wasn't sure how far he had run when the adrenaline wore off and he felt his knees lock up, preventing him from going further. He staggered to a stop, casting the stones off into the trees. Sitting there for a moment, panting, he looked for a glow, and when he could see none, he forced himself up. 

Clark met him before he made it halfway back to the village. He showed no traces of pain; he wasn't even laboring to breathe. His face was grim, though, and he stopped before Lex, crossing his arms and blocking the way, silently demanding an explanation. 

"I wanted to help," Alexander choked out, still struggling to breathe evenly himself. "We live better in the settlements, and even better yet across the ocean. These people don't even have doctors. If I could use the rocks, I thought I could even approve on what medicine we have, and..." 

He stopped. Clark's expression had changed, though he hadn't moved. After a moment, the larger man sighed. "You have to accept, sometimes, that others know more than you might. Trust us, Lex. That would be the best way for your to help." 

Alexander swallowed, his throat feeling dry. Trust. It was easier to say than to do, especially for a Luthor. His father had never said the word without a sense of irony. 

When he didn't respond, Clark stepped forward, embracing him. Alexander suddenly felt exhausted, overwhelmed with emotion. 

He was lost. What purpose did he have in the New World? What use had he been in his own country, where his only fate seemed to be constantly challenging his father? How could anyone, even a man like Clark, trust him when he couldn't even find the will to trust himself? 

"Would you like to see one of my favorite places?" Clark asked, after some time, stepping back. Alexander nodded, his neck feeling loose as he did so, as if there was no option but to consent. In a blur, he found himself swept into Clark's arms, and then the world around him was gone, colors and shapes melting into each other. He curled his body in, using Clark's body as a grounding for to keep himself from getting swept away by the wind that had suddenly enveloped them. 

He waited a moment to open his eyes after he felt the wind stop. The world was no longer a blur, and Clark set him on his feet. He turned, and was greeted with an view of the ocean. They were standing on a cliff over a cove, and in the distance, Alexander could just make out ships against the fading light. They had to be near to a port town. He let out a long, awed breath. "We were at least a day and a half from here..." 

"I prefer a spot on the ocean far across the land, but I wouldn't dare try to go there with another. Humans are far too fragile." There seemed to be a note of sadness in his voice. 

"We aren't all fragile," Alexander argued. It wasn't that he wanted to see the other coast, but something in the way Clark had said it stirred something in him. "We may not be as tough as iron, but we have our own means to keep ourselves alive." 

"You break," Clark said simply, ghosting a hand over Alexander's head. "And when one breaks, those around them crack open as well. One wound causes many." 

Alexander was no longer sure he knew what Clark was talking about. "You haven't broken anyone, though. You saved me." 

"I broke many." There was a new pain on his face, so much different from that caused by the rocks. "People were changed by the rocks. I came with them. They started to do things, killing each other and themselves. There were women who loved me and died for me. Lana's mother and father died by the rocks." 

Clark. Murderer. The two did not seem to fit together. It seemed clear to Alexander that, whether Clark had brought the rocks with him or not, from the sky or anywhere else, it could not possibly have really been his fault. Not the deaths. He hadn't plunged a dagger into anyone's gut. "Clark..." 

Clark started out at the sunrise. His jaw was taut with emotion. 

"Even if you weren't fast or strong, you would still be one of the strongest man I've met since I came here. Many men can barely seem to fend for themselves myself included." 

Clark turned a sad half-smile to him, still slightly bitter. 

"Most men would not even think to redeem themselves, Clark." 

"Redeem? What can I do to redeem myself?" 

Alexander found himself laughing, half-surprising. "You saved my life. You didn't even know me and you saved my life. Am I the first one?" 

"No," Clark admitted, looking somewhat bashful. "I have gifts that you do not. Of course I use them to help." 

"While others with gifts use them for themselves." Alexander remembered Tina Greer. She had wanted to use hers to kill. She had been in danger, but she had gotten away only to come back for blood. "You are a good man, Clark." 

"I'm not a man." 

"You're certainly more human than my father." Clark gave him a questioning look. "Don't bother asking. Just understand that he is that last person you would ever want to be like." 

Clark smiled, more genuinely. Alexander felt his skin prickle again. Clark filled him with a warmth that he couldn't identify. He hadn't known him for long, but he wanted to trust him, wanted to know him so badly, and he could think of no reason not to. 

He hadn't noticed Clark stepping closer to him until their noses bumped, and Clark touched Alexander's chin gently, tilting his head and looking deep into his eyes. He felt his breath grow heavy, and suddenly understood. "Two men should not lie together," he murmured, and it felt as though it was not even him saying it, but an echo of someone else's voice in his mind most likely his father's. 

"And I am not a man," Clark said, and their lips touched gently. Alexander had never known a sweeter kiss from a woman, perhaps because most of them had been stolen from behind the backs of rich men. But this was his, free for the taking, given to him, in fact. He didn't need it served on a silver platter Clark's lips on their own were enough, so natural. 

The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but, chaste as it was, it made his knees shake. When he felt a strong, warm hand pushing his trousers down, stroking the flesh as it was slowly exposed, they gave out. 

He still wore the tattered clothing from the fire, and it was all too easy to rid himself of his shirt. When it fell to the ground, he put his hands on Clark's thighs, using them both for support and to soothe the need to touch Clark's skin, to feel his muscles twitch beneath his fingers. He looked up at Clark, still breathing heavily, and found lust-darkened eyes looking back at him. 

And then he was gone. 

For a moment, Alexander felt panicked. He would have sworn Clark's thoughts and his own had been aligned, he could have sworn and how was he to get back? 

But then Clark reappeared, a clay bowl held in one hand, and he maneuvered Alexander onto the ground, trying to lie him on the discarded shirt as best as he could. He put the bowl down and reached forward, hand reaching around Alexander's neck to pull him up slightly, pressing another kiss to his lips. When that seemed all it would be, Alexander opened his mouth, licking, asking for entrance. Clark gave it to him, and moaned when their tongues met, caressing one another in a crazed sort of dance. His free hand stroked Alexander's chest, brushing nipples and causing the smaller man to arch against him. He pulled back, and Alexander was panting, his skin hot. 

"Have you done this before?" Clark asked, his fingers rubbing the skin just over the line of his pants, just barely above the erection they encased. "With a man?" 

"No, only with women." Alexander didn't want to talk anymore. 

"Are you sure you're willing?" 

"Yesss," he hissed, arching up again to press the evidence of his willingness to Clark's arm. He received a chuckle for his efforts, but didn't care, since it was followed by fingers slipping his pants down. When they were gone, he laid bare; he had found his stay in the natives' village easier with minimal clothing. Clark easily stripped himself of his loincloth, the only thing he wore that acted as a barrier between them though a poor one. 

Clark bent down, kissing him again, this time pushing his own tongue into Alexander's mouth, one hand reaching toward the bowl by their side. Out of the corner of his half-closed eyes Alexander could see liquid coat Clark's fingers, something like the salve Lana had used on his hand, but thinner. Then the hand disappeared, and he focused on the feel of Clark's mouth, of his muscles as the flexed under his hands, until he felt a finger press against his ass, eliciting a gasp from him. 

"What...?" He hated to admit it, but he had no idea how such an act could even occur between two men. It seemed like he was about to find out, though. 

"Shhh," Clark whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth as he slowly pressed the finger into Alexander. He felt the muscles tighten around it and stopped momentarily. "Relax. It will hurt, but I promise the pain will be less if you relax." 

Alexander looked uncertain, and Clark moved against him, brushing his erection. 

"Please trust me, Lex." 

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Alexander forced his body to relax, steeling himself against the feel of the finger pushing inside his ass. He gripped Clark's shoulders, biting his lip. It hurt a little, but it was mostly strange at that moment. 

Clark kissed him again just before pushing in a second finger. The pain was greater, but Alexander knew he could handle it so long as he kept kissing Clark, anyway. 

A wiggle of the two fingers hit something inside him, and he gasped again, writhing against Clark. It felt as though his entire body was centered on that one point, shockwaves of pleasure coursing back throughout him in response to the touch. It was easier to relax for the third finger when there was the promise of finding that spot again. 

Unfortunately, before he could Clark withdrew them, earning a moan from Alexander. He smiled, a somewhat mischievous look on his face as he put a hand on the smaller man's chest, keeping him from rising in protest. He dipped his fingers into the bowl again, and Alexander couldn't help but watched as he covered his own erection with it. He was amazed to find that the sight of Clark's cock could arouse him more, especially as Clark stroked it, preparing himself. When he was done, he put his hands on the smaller man's legs, pushing them apart and hooking his arm under one knee. He leaned forward to whisper against Alexander's lips. "Remember, Lex: relax." 

Alexander flexed his fingers against Clark's shoulders, sliding one across his chest. He forced himself to relax, almost quivering with anticipation of further pleasure, and barely twitched when he felt the head of Clark's erection press against him. A pause, a slight push, and it began to enter him. He looked forward enough to that spot being touched that it seemed even the entrance itself was pleasurable, though undeniably still somewhat uncomfortable. He kept his breathing even as Clark continued to push, in and further in until he was as far as he could go, letting out a pant in relief. 

He waited a moment, and when Alexander moved against him he pulled away, thrusting in much more quickly. The other man let out another small gasp, and groaned in pleasure when a large hand wrapped around his own erection, moving slowly at first, until Clark's thrusts picked up pace, his hand going fast until the paces of the two nearly matched. When he brushed that spot within Alexander again, it seemed as if the smaller man could not for the life of him stop writhing or giving out long, low moans, sweet to Clark's ears. He panted in time with his thrusts, stretching to kiss Alexander, mixing the two sounds. 

Alexander was unable to last long, the newfound pleasure far too intense for him to handle on first experience. As orgasm hit him, he bit his lip, his hands, which had wandered to Clark's chest, grasping his sides to steady him through it. Clark shuddered as come spilled on his hand, licking it clean when he was done. Alexander watched him with wonder, still somewhat aroused as he rode the tail of his climax. 

One, two, three thrusts later and Clark shuddered again, stilling for a moment. He let out a long, slow breath of satisfaction, kissing Alexander one last time before pulling out, lying beside him. 

There was a flash out doubt. What would Alexander see now in those eyes? He knew that lust and love were not one and the same, but he knew he had felt both, still felt both. Carefully, he peered over at Clark, who smiled still, his eyes bright. 

Perhaps Clark was in love with him, too. Or perhaps it was too early to be love yet, but it had the makings of it, he was sure. 

Clark stroked his chest, resting a hand over his heart just to feel it beat. 

He was sure. 

* * *

"We couldn't live this way in Smallville," Alexander muttered, staring at the fire pit where part of a deer cooked. "If God doesn't forbid it, they do anyway." 

"We could leave," Clark suggested. "We could make a new Smallville for you. We could combine our ways and yours. I know a flat land where we will be welcome. It will take some time to travel to, especially without your horse... and if we can convince others to come. I wouldn't forget the elderly or children." 

"I wouldn't expect you do," Alexander said, smiling at him. 

It could work. He knew most, if not all of the village would follow Clark, and none seemed to care much if he and Alexander were close as they were, though some young women looked jealous. Lois would follow, too she had said she would stick with her cousin, that she had little interest in returning to the town. He wasn't sure about Lana he was never sure about Lana. But he wouldn't need her there, didn't need her anymore. 

He didn't need Lana or money. He didn't need power over the town. He didn't need to win his father over, and that was a hopeless task anyway. 

He just needed Clark, and the trust he couldn't help but have with him. Without it, he would waste away, no matter where he was. The taste of it was irreplaceable. 

He place was not in the New or Old Worlds; it was with Clark. 

There was no pleasure for him to be had anywhere else. 


End file.
